


M.E. 744

by ravenousravishing



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU, AU - Not Everyone Dies, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assassination Plot(s), Canon-Typical Violence, R&R Plot Overhaul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 01:19:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14485662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenousravishing/pseuds/ravenousravishing
Summary: The royal Lucian visit to Tenebrae goes differently.





	M.E. 744

**Author's Note:**

> [hipster indie female singer vine voice] welcaim to maih kitchhhen we häve avacädhhss and AUs.
> 
> Lack of indents is unprofessional but I can't fix that until I'm back on desktop.

The sound of children laughing on a spring afternoon- high, clear and joyful- is the sound Sylva wishes for her people. A sound she wishes would last forever, not just this afternoon.  
Setting her cup aside, Sylva leans into her wicker chair and watches the children below. There is her son, reading beneath a tree; Noctis and Luna sit nearby, the prince’s chair folded up, and they braid flowers into each other’s hair.  
Noctis is small next to her daughter. She can tell from here he’s made a mess of Luna’s hair and she can almost make out his excited voice. He was such a solemn sight when they arrived; clothes hanging off his shrunken shoulders, cheeks hollowed as if decades older. Sylva had thought Noctis would have the voice of an old man. Now, beside Luna, he chatters like any small child.  
“The humidity here does wonders for my joints,” Regis says, leaning for a cup and glancing to Sylva. “But Noctis seems to enjoy it. He tells me he prefers the ‘green air’ to the salt at home.”  
Shaking her thoughts away, Sylva gives Regis a small smile. “He’s not the first to think that. It’s less dry here.” She brushes her pale hair back, adjusting her hair combs.  
Regis nods, looking down to the children. They sit on a balcony above one of Fenestala’s smaller gardens; a private place situated right outside the guest bedrooms. The banners of Nox Fleuret cast moving shadows on the lawn, the sunlight illuminating the stained glass windows. This part of the manor’s gardens slopes softly downwards into a wispy grove of tall, pale trees.  
“I didn’t thank you earlier,” Regis says quietly as he holds his cup tightly, “as I should have.” His drink sloshes because of his shaking hand. Regis’ hands were once steady, Sylva remembers. His hair was a rich color, too, instead of shot through with grey.  
Sighing, Sylva leans across the table to touch his wrist. Her touch is light, his skin cool through her lace glove. Regis refuses to look at her, staring down at his son with a frown.  
“I did for him what I could.” She tries to smile, saying “And a healed child is a moment for celebration, Regis, not thanks.”  
He shrugs, setting his cup aside. Regis turns to Sylva and places his hand atop hers, judt starting to speak before there is a shriek from below.  
Sylva hurries to the railing and sees-  
Her shoulders relax and she lets out a breath as she sees Ravus chasing the others down below, waving his arms in the air. Luna pushes Noctis through the grass, both of them shrieking and cackling with delight.  
From above, Sylva can see how Luna is almost her brother’s height now. Ravus’ hair is lighter, and his build is slimmer. They’re too far for Sylva to see, but she knows their noses are damning evidence of their shared genetics.  
“Ravus was such a composed child,” Regis squeezes her shoulder gently as he joins her. “I’m surprised at how open he is now.”  
“It’s your son. I’m afraid the novelty of having him turns both my children into absolute nightmares,” Sylva sighs, “especially Lunafreya.”  
Lunafreya, who wears delicate dresses in the Tenebraen style only to stain them with grass, trips over laughing as Ravus descends upon her with tickles.  
“And my son speaks audible words when with her; the children are good for each other.” Regis rests against the railing, giving a small wave to his son. Noctis’ eyes are bright even from here as he beams up at them, waving back wildly.  
Together they stand by the railing in silence as Ravus sprints across the grass and Luna flees with Noctis. He corners them against a crowd of shaped bushes, announcing their doom with smug satisfaction. Luna flings one of her shoes at him, Noctis cheering as Ravus falls over dodging it.  
There is a crackle in the air behind them and Regis whirls around. Sylva turns to find a pair of Lucian glaives striding towards them, their faces set and weapons in hand.  
The glaives speak quickly, trading the explanation back and forth. “There is a Niflheim force,” one says, taking Sylva’s elbow. “We have only minutes warning from Insomnia,” the other says, taking Regis. “We’ve already prepared an escape,” the first one says as he walks Sylva inside. “The children are being taken separately, to confuse your pursuers.”  
“The Empire wouldn’t dare attack here, not at Fenestala!” Sylva’s voice is high with tension as she follows the glaive down the hall, her own strides longer than his. She shakes off his grip, pausing in the hall, looking to him intensely. “We must infor-“  
Sylva is interrupted by a grunt and thud that makes both Sylva and the glaive turn around. Behind them stands Regis, a bloodied knife in hand, with the taller glaive dead at his feet. The man’s throat is sliced open, eyes wide and empty.  
Sylva spins to face the remaining glaive, throat tight and body cold as his expression turns from concern to fury. The man spits a swear at Regis, swinging an arm for Sylva.  
She meets his swing, grabbing his forearm. The man looks alarmed for a moment, alarm turning to pinched agony as she dislocates his shoulder. He makes a valiant effort to attack her even with one arm useless, hissing in pain as Sylva twists and pulls. Regis comes from behind him and sinks his dagger deep into the glaive’s back viciously.  
Sylva lets go of the dying man, stepping back as Regis kicks the man’s weapon away. Regis’ breath is fast and hard, eyes wide with fear as he stands still. Sylva’s hands shake at her side. They both stare at the dying man, blood beginning to pool on the floor as he grasps at nothing and gasps wetly.  
“How-“  
“Their weapons. They aren’t Kingsglaive.” Regis rolls his wrist and his knife disappears.  
“Regis- Regis, the children!”  
Sylva nearly falls over the railing as they rush back to the balcony. The children are still playing on the lawn, but four kingsglaives- no, assassins- are walking swiftly towards them across the lawn.  
The entire world shifts and contracts as Regis grabs Sylva’s elbow. It takes a moment to realize he’s warped them both down to the garden, and suddenly her skull feels several sizes too small. She stumbles, gasping, while Regis runs for the children.  
Vision swirling, Sylva straightens to see Regis gathering Noctis in his arms. Noctis asks something with confusion, wrapping his arms tight around his father’s neck. Ravus has Lunafreya’s arm, shouting for Sylva as the assassins draw their weapons, coming ever nearer.  
Sylva makes it to Ravus’ side before her knees buckle, Lunafreya rushing to try and hold Sylva up as she falls. The assassins are a few hundred feet away as Regis summons a weapon and turns to Sylva, his jaw clenched tight and face pale.  
“How much can you handle?” Sylva pulls her children close. Ravus’ shoulders are shaking.  
“Not enough.” Regis’ voice is low as he watches the assassins behind her.  
“Try,” Sylva says as she pushes Lunafreya towards him.  
Lunafreya stares back at Sylva with wide eyes as Regis grabs her arm. Watching her daughter stand there- Luna’s pale hair is knotted with flowers, her shoe is still missing, there are grass stains on her dress and she is small next to Regis- Sylva chokes back a sob and nods to Regis.  
Ravus shouts as the air snaps and Regis disappears in a crackle of purple, Lunafreya and Noctis with him. Sylva grabs Ravus’ hand, drags him behind her as she straightens up.  
“Behind me,” Sylva orders.  
“Mother-“ Ravus’ voice is a cry as he tries to pull from her grip, tries to step around her.  
“Behind me, Ravus!” Sylva shouts, holding him tighter. The four imposter kingsglaive haven’t slowed their advance.  
Regis’ escape isn’t unnoticed; one of them shouts a command, pointing towards the manor. Sylva steps back, pressing Ravus with her as two of the assassins split away and run towards Fenestala.  
“Ravus,” Sylva turns to face her son, taking his shoulders and pushing him forwards, “run.”  
He shakes his head, even as she shoves him again, and keeps shaking it as he stumbles into a run down the lawn.  
Sylva looks back to the assassins. They’re only a hundred feet away. Her stomach churns as she runs after Ravus.  
They will be safe in the trees below. They can lose the assassins in those trees.  
Ravus is close to the grove when Regis appears in a burst of purple, the boy shouting as Regis grabs him up. Sylva watches as Ravus fights the king, shouting for her, insisting Regis let him go.  
Regis throws his weapon and warps away with her son.  
Sylva looks back and her heart beats faster.  
The assassins are so close she can see the determination in their eyes. These men mean to kill her. They mean to chase her into the ground like a deer hunted for sport; they will chase her until her legs give out and then they will kill her.  
She is only five feet from the closest of trees when her gown is caught, another hand grabbing her hair and pulling her back. Sylva screams; she screams in rage, she reaches back and claws at the hands grabbing her. She twists in their grip and slams her head back.  
There’s a wet crack, and her capturer grunts as he releases her hair. Both of them stumble, the assassin pulling Sylva with him. She meets his eyes now- oh he is angry now, his nose is broken and his snarl is made all the worse by the blood pouring down his face- and is about to simply punch him when something slams into her.  
Sylva expects to hit the ground, expects to feel the grass under her and maybe a knife cutting across her throat.  
Instead, the world spins and contracts. Sylva’s ribs are crushed and pulled apart, her head feeling purely explosive as her body hits a stone wall.  
Her ears ring and she gasps for air and flails her arms, trying to find her place in the world. She touches metal railing, scrapes her palm against a probable windowsill before shaking hands grab hers. Regis’ voice tells her “Calm, calm Sylva, slow your breathing.”  
Holding Regis’ hands in hers, Sylva closes her eyes against the spinning world. The pain in her chest lessens as she begins to breathe again, as she struggles to pull in a full breath.  
“Look,” Sylva hears Luna say. She can make just enough sense of the world now to watch Regis move away and out of sight.  
“Support his back,” Regis’ voice says to her left, “and stay close as you can.”  
A warm hand holds her cheek, and Sylva finds her focus as Regis brushes hair out of her face. His expression is fixed and set, dark eyes hard. “Where can the children stay?” He asks her, wrapping an arm around Sylva and heaving her upwards. It is a relief to stand on her feet, such a relief.  
“My study.” Sylva pushes away from Ravus and looks at where she is now.  
They are on a different balcony than before; this one is closest to the library. There are small steps to a small patio below them that leads to the lawn. She looks at the giant windows above them- they feature the Six, with Bahamut standing center of them all- and looks to Regis and the children.  
Ravus holds Noctis now, the boy’s face pressed into Ravus’ shoulder. Luna holds Regis’ hand and watches Sylva. Regis is turned away, looking down the balcony steps.  
There is a shout from those stairs, and Regis turns and simply scoops Lunafreya into his arms. He grabs Sylva’s arm as he runs inside, Ravus following behind them.  
“Which way?” Regis glances to Sylva as they run down a hallway.  
“This way,” Sylva says, shrugging off his grip and running ahead.  
She leads them down a spiral staircase, through the library, across a parlor; she throws open doors and makes sure they keep pace.  
“Where is everyone?” Ravus asks as they turn down a final hallway. “There’s no one else here!”  
“Maybe they’ve staged a distraction?” Regis pants. He lags behind Ravus as Sylva bursts into her study and holds the door for them.  
The room is pale and airy, subtle reminders of Sylva’s life scattered throughout it. A large portrait of Sylva, her children and their father hangs behind a sitting couch that Ravus settles Noctis onto.  
“We seal the door,” Sylva turns to face Regis as he sets Lunafreya down, “we seal the door behind us and we-”  
“Mother,” Lunafreya says, rushing to Sylva, grabbing her arm and dragging Sylva towards the desk, “you’re hurt.” Lunafreya’s voice is barely a whisper as she pushes Sylva back into her desk chair.  
“I’m fine,” Sylva says as she stands, “they didn’t-”  
Regis comes to her and sits her back into the chair by the shoulders, kneeling next to her. “You’re bleeding.” He presses a palm to her side and Sylva hisses, closing her eyes against a burst of pain.  
She wants to get back to her feet and order him from her study, wants to grab the Trident of Bahamut from the wall behind her and stop whatever plot is being brought down on Fenestala.  
Instead, she looks at the red blooming across her side. Her gown is torn and the layers of it are fraying where it’s been sliced. She fingers the wound, ignoring the stinging pain of touch. It is small, yes, but she can’t tell how deep it is; however, blood doesn’t pour from the wound and it is away from anything too critical.  
“It’s just-”  
“Stay with the children,” Regis squeezes her shoulders, “they’ll be safer with you than without.”  
He steps away from her and summons another weapon. It is an impressive sword with engravings along the blade, a subtle purple shimmer about it. “I’ll find Claurus and gather your guard.”  
“Raise the alarm; those men cannot escape,” Sylva says.  
Nodding, Regis spares a glance for his son before striding to the doors. “I’ll find Claurus,” he begins to close the door and pauses to meet Sylva’s eye, “raise the alarm and then gather your guard.” He shuts the doors firmly, and a moment later they begin to glow a soft lilac.  
There is a long silence with the king’s absence. Ravus replaces Lunafreya by Sylva’s side, Lunafreya going to sit beside Noctis. Noctis watches Luna quietly, wordlessly hiding his face into her as she lays him in her lap.  
Lunafreya pets his hair, leaning close to Noctis so she can whisper to him softly. Her expression is determined, eyes focused on one of the study’s curved windows.  
“We should- we should slow the bleeding,” Ravus says, shaking himself. He turns to Sylva’s desk and starts to open her drawers but she rests a hand on his shoulder.  
He stops, staring hard at the planner laying open on the desk. Ravus is stiff as Sylva turns him to face her, his eyebrows pulled close as she gently squeezes his shoulders. His mismatched eyes are red and watery.  
“I’ll tend to it, Ravus,” Sylva tells him in her gentlest voice. “I need you to help your sister and Noctis,” she continues quietly, “I need you to keep them calm.”  
Ravus narrows his eyes at her. He straightens up and nods sternly before going to one of Sylva’s bookshelves.  
Sylva leaves him to his business as she opens a desk drawer and pulls out a handkerchief. It is a far cry from bandages- and it will be forever ruined- but it works well enough as she presses it to her wound.  
The sun still shines outside. There are clouds scattered across the sky in the window, birds swooping far in the distance. Sylva watches them silently as Ravus joins the other children on the couch. He has a large tome that he opens on the cushions beside Luna and Noctis, turning the pages towards them.  
“First,” Ravus begins quietly, “there was a tortoise. It rose higher than all the mountains, its steps shaking the world…”  
His voice carries lightly in the background of Sylva’s mind as she closes her eyes. She rests her head back and listens to him read. It is a children’s tale; a simplified telling of Eos’ beginning. She hears Noctis sniffle, hears Lunafreya interject corrections to the story as Ravus reads.  
Sylva rests at her desk, hiding from an assassination plot with her children and the Lucian prince, and waits.

**Author's Note:**

> Wasn't originally gonna upload this because I'm not sure anyone would be interested in my FFXV AU plots??? But here it is??? Work is ruining me.
> 
> Still :/ at this writing style.
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment with any thoughts on plot repair AUs. This entire AU is self indulgent, so there's angst but Lunafreya also gets the respect and plot involvement she deserves.


End file.
